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smolvenger · 2 years ago

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Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Chapter 17: Blue Wildflowers (A Fix-It Fanfiction of The Essex Serpent)

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined through the perspective of the saintly, sickly Vicar's Wife, Stella Ransome, giving her a new ending rather than her canon fate. A bildungsroman of Stella was raised to be a proper lady and married a handsome vicar Will Ransome. She did everything to be a perfect wife and to uphold his ministry. However, after receiving a fatal diagnosis, she learns her husband is having an affair. Her heartbreak, grief, and repressed anger are released. She finds hope, happiness, justice...and even revenge and new love.

Pairings: Stella Ransome x Male OC: Harry Cavaradossi, some Stella x Will Ransome but focusing on the angst of him cheating on her.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen// Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Harry explains why he read the letters. Stella makes decisions regarding her past...and her future. There is a visitor by the name of Seaborne. A party brings back a memory absolved from past miseries into a happy present moment. And Stella, now content, finishes her tale.

Chapter Warnings: A super brief spicy scene towards the end, swearing, discussions of penises, bodily functions, marriage, death, children, and illness are discussed. Discussions of a Major Character Death (sorry not sorry Will Ransome girlies). Stella has PTSD, gets to actually mourn the affair, and becomes Eliza Hamilton for a minute. I get to shit talk both Will and Cora, so if you like the pairing of Will/Cora you have been warned. Religion is portrayed, esp towards the end. But LOTS of fluff and comfort in this chapter.

Chapter Word Count: 6K

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A/N: THANK YOU GUYS so much for following through with this series! It was very therapeutic to write. And thank you for following Stella on her journey! So now here is that eventual happy ending I promised! Enjoy! COMMENTS, KUDOS, ASKS, AND DMS ABOUT MY WORK ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, For they shall inherit the earth.”- Matthew 5: 3-5.

“Harry! What are you doing!” I cried, rushing forward.

He jumped up where he was but kept the papers in his hand. I curled my fists- every letter was sprawled across the desk! His pink lips began to mumble out an explanation as I saw the blood rush to his face.

“You’re home early…you wouldn’t be here for another hour and…”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you reading these!? I told you not to!” I cried again, gesturing to the papers.

He leaned forward, gaining resolve.

“Stella, I’m worried about you!” he replied.

I paused. He held onto the letters, keeping them to his chest. I noticed that the old journal I kept during my time in Aldwinter was also laid open on the desk as well. On the page were words I wrote upon hearing about the threat of the snake:

“He sent the serpent into Eden’s beflowered garden, and he sends it now and the penance must be paid…”

Oh, how little I knew then! If only I could have gone back in time and warned that lovestruck church girl of what would come from marrying that curate! Or that housewife so concerned about a snake devouring her children to make sure her vicar husband stayed away from widows!

“You’re worried about me?” I echoed to him.

“Since that night you saw me with a beard, I kept worrying about that look on your face, and I kept hearing you get out of bed to sob at night. I was concerned! I wanted to know more about what happened in Aldwinter and what happened between…between Will and…and…what was her name?”

He went through the papers to check again. Taking in a shaky breath, I walked towards his chair and clutched onto it to steady myself. I hadn’t said her name out loud in a long, long time.

“Cora…her name was Cora Seaborne…that was William’s lover,” I answered softly.

I found that though I spoke her name, I didn’t die on the spot and despite the unpleasant, anxious feelings inside me, I was still very safe. She was just a word spoken and dissolved into air.

Cora was a person, not a monster, I reminded myself. A person as I am a person. We both had blonde hair. We both were mothers. We lived in Aldwinter. We loved William. We both became widows. We both have hopes, dreams, fears, and dreads. We both committed cardinal sins.

Harry continued; his forehead knotted in anguish.

“I wanted to know what happened between Will and Cora to hurt you like this…So I’d know…I’d know…how best to comfort you. How to be the husband Will never was to you…”

I let out a sigh as I picked up one letter from them.

“I used to think and wonder at that time what sin we did to bring forth the Serpent in our town…now I wonder what on earth I did to have this happen to me…” I commented.

“You did nothing wrong, Stella. Cora and William did something wrong…the blame is entirely theirs, not you…” Harry assured.

I looked down at one page. It was a draft of a letter kept praising Cora about how she lit up Will’s soul and left him speechless and filled with longing.

“I’d try to convince myself not to be jealous of her, try to tell myself I wasn’t… All that changed when I saw them at the tree…I will always be second to Cora. Worse than her. Inferior. And that was why Will strayed….” I replied.

A bitter and petty phrase was on the tip of my tongue. The sound of her name- Cora- the first syllable rhymes with the word “whore.” But that was going too far, even for me (a murderess!). I forced my lips tightly shut until the temptation to connect her name to the word faded away.

Harry got up and offered me the chair, which I sat on. He went to the hall and asked the housekeeper to bring some tea and sweets, then returned. A tear dripped down my chin. Harry gave me his handkerchief.

“How many of their letters did you read?” I asked him.

“All, I think. And a little of the journal.”

“What do you think- not as my husband now, but as someone neutral to the case- what do you think? Of them?” I asked.

Harry looked down at one letter and then let out a scoff, looking back at me.

“Honestly, what n’er do wells!” he replied.

“What?!” I gasped.

He picked up two letters, gesticulating with them with both hands.

“Will and Cora- I haven’t read interactions between two people more self-obsessed and obnoxious!” he snarled.

“Really?” I asked softly.

“Yes, really! Must this woman- Cora- drag every person she met into the mess of her life!? She and Will did nothing! Nothing but ruin everyone else’s life!”

“Mine included…” I prodded.

“Yours worst of all!” Harry agreed.

He then picked up another letter.

“Here she is talking of all the research she did around the town- how would her little hobby help anyone? She could have found ways to trap or kill it. She could have tried to find ways one could protect oneself and educate the folk frightened for their lives. And the family of the girl who went missing-What of her parents? Or the other victim’s families- William could have made tithes to help them. He could have comforted and prayed with them. Will and Cora could have done anything productive but walk around outside, bantering about science and faith and swooning over each other!”

“She told me it was love when I asked her about it,” I informed him.

“If she did love him, she would let him be with his wife and let him go!” he ranted.

“And what do you think of her…is Cora better than me…I thought because she was always so much more…more spirited and… if I was only more like her, Will wouldn't have…never have… Is she truly better?” I asked gingerly.

Harry lowered the letters and folded his arms.

“Well, if you were in her place and a woman’s husband declared his love for you, a woman who had tuberculosis and was likely to die…if you knew without a doubt, he was married to this lady- would you say yes to him?” Harry asked.

“Of course not! Never!” I cried.

He shrugged upwards and his thin, pink lips curved to smile at me.

“Yes, there is a difference between you two! You are selfless, and she is selfish. That is what selfish people do. Hurt others without thinking of it. Therefore, you are better than her…do not compare yourself to this Cora Seaborne. my dear. You are my light and my warmth. What is a candle to a star, hm? Or a coral shell by the sea to the Milky way or the constellations?” he said.

He kissed the top of my head.

“When you met her, what else happened?” he asked.

“I threatened that I’d shoot her if I ever saw her again.”

He patted my shoulder in congratulations.

“Good! Remind me later and I’ll lend you one of my old soldier pistols. If you won’t hurt yourself, you have my blessing to fight back and avenge yourself.” He said sincerely.

I nodded my head.

He then leaned against the desk. He checked to make sure the housekeeper was not around and then leaned to me to speak quietly.

“It seems if there was an Essex Serpent, it was Will’s cock…”

“Harry!”

“It’s true! The only Serpent that one needed to fear was the one between his legs! That was the real god Will was a priest of- his own cock! And Cora was the priestess, and you were the lamb at the altar…” he elaborated.

He brought out an arm and slithered it through the air as a snake does in the grass.

“Can you imagine Will’s cock slithering around Essex like a snake? A giant cock hissing? SSSSSSSS!” he teased.

“I don’t know what would horrify me more- a giant snake or a giant penis slithering about!” I replied quietly.

I couldn’t resist a smile and put a hand over my mouth as I began to chuckle. Soon we both were crying and guffawing with aching bellies, howling with laughter at the obscene metaphor.

“But you are no sacrifice here…” Harry said, bending a knee to look me in the eye.

“Then what am I?” I asked.

He clutched both of my hands as he knelt.

“Goddess divine, of course,” he declared.

I put my hand on my chest in reaction and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. He kissed my hands tenderly.

“I wanted to understand all that happened. And now I do…can you forgive me, my love?” he asked.

“I forgive you, Harry…”

“I only hope I…I will be better, a better man and husband for you.”

Looking over at a corner, there was a table where there stood an empty wine bottle. He sighed.

“Who did you even marry? You deserve a knight in shining armor, Stella, not some drunken fool…” he sighed.

“You’re not that! Well, you still drink a bit much, but you are no fool. You are my knight in shining armor, Harry, my dear!”

With a surprise, he pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Then give your knight a kiss.”

We kissed once when the housekeeper walked in with tea and slices of cake. They were drunk and devoured, but the letters remained.

“What should we do with these?” Harry asked.

I got up from his lap. I began to gather the letters. One by one, and then into one neat pile. Anger began to burn again in my throat.

“We could give them to the children when they grow up. Let Will’s legacy be that how he humiliated their mother…” I spat, feeling my grip tighten.

“And carry the blame for their father’s actions? And sour any of the good memories and feelings they may feel for him- he was their first father, after all. And what if they discover the truth of how he died…then how sympathetic shall they think of you? Besides, Stella…I don’t think Will Ransome should be a part of our marriage. It’s a joining of two souls, not three.” Harry suggested.

I glanced down and released my breath.

“You’re right…I could…I could send the rest of them to the church back in Aldwinter…ruin his legacy after death!” I said bitterly.

“And have your whole family be blacklisted and frowned upon for one man’s sins? How will your children live when their father’s actions have condemned their whole future? And if they notice the similarities between your possession of those letters and the suicide scrap by Will’s corpse that time ago and connect the pieces…you would be practically tossing yourself into a jail cell, Stella.”

“Oh God, I’m a selfish, petty, person….” I lamented.

“You’re a human, Stella…” he reminded me.

We paused. He placed a hand on my shoulder. When we looked up, he gestured to the little lamp on the desk. On the inside was a lit candle.

“I think you know what to do,” Harry advised.

“I think it’s time…I kept these for when they would be useful. To have others believe me. To see those guilty punished. And then to free myself…” I mused.

Harry half smiled. He pointed to the second page of one letter where Will signed his full name.

“Ah- you were held prisoner by Mr. Ransome and in need of a ransom- and it seemed you ransomed yourself out of being a Ransome!” he teased.

“I’m not a Ransome in name or the word…I’m a Cavaradossi now…”

I let out a little chuckle at the string of puns. Then I filed them all into one pile. But Harry slipped his hand and took the first page.

“Let me have this one.”

“What do you need that for?” I asked.

“I need to wipe when I relieve my piss or shit!” he said.

I let out a laugh.

“I’m ready now…I’m ready to do this…” I said half to Harry and half to myself.

I went into our room to our fireplace, carrying the letters. I got the matches on the mantle and struck one until a little flame emerged from it. I then put the match to one page of Will and Cora’s letters. I watched as it curled up black, their words and banter and love confessions and declarations bleeding into darkness. Before the flame would reach my fingers, I tossed it into the fireplace. One by one I burned each page and placed them into the fireplace.

Yes, I was dying. But William, you are dead. I thought. I still have life in me, fragile as it was. And now you have none, Will. None, none, nothing.

The flames kissed and danced over the pages. It digested their words so full of selfish lust and then made it a black crumple of dust at the bottom of the fire. Again, I saw the small blueness in the center of the flames.

I watched as I destroyed each last page. They burned and then dwindled to nothing but dust.

Now any trace of William Ransome, my Will, the true Essex Serpent, was gone. I walked with lightness and slept like a babe at night. And Harry kept his promise- I had a small but loaded pistol hidden in my purse. Ready to make good my promise to Cora if I were to ever see her again.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ Though I was glad to continue life as normal, the London smog did not agree with me. It made me cough furiously while walking outside for errands. The doctor’s words haunted me.

“Get some clean air.”

One evening, after the children were in their rooms for their post-dinner hobbies, Harry and I sat down by the fire for him to read and me to sew. The dog laid down on the floor to nap, though his dark brown fur almost made him blend into it. After ten minutes, I set aside the needle and thread and looked at him.

“Harold…can we please see a doctor? The fog is getting to me. I can hardly walk for coughing…” I explained.

He set down his book.

“Any blood?”

“Rarely.”

“Then…then who says we have to live in London?” he suggested.

“What…what about your bank? Or your parties!? Or your plays?!” I asked.

He shrugged them off.

“I can throw them here! I can always travel to London if there’s a show I want to see. And I’m head of the bank- I can move headquarters. We could find a place just outside of London…would you like that? The children will understand- your health improved because of the clean mountain air. They’ll much prefer you alive and well.”

“Then by all means…let us move…”

After some searching, we found a lovely place in Kersey, Suffolk. We packed and gathered our things and moved out. A local building chosen as headquarters for the Cavaradossi bank thought the branch in London remained open. It was a comfortable cottage for all of us. A tree grew outside and stretched its branches out like a greeting friend. And there was fresh air- beautiful, bright fresh air. I loved taking a deep breath once I stepped outside. The air was crisp with winter and a light dusting of snow.

On our first day in the new place, once the boxes were set down, our faithful spaniel wagged his tail as he wandered in and out to the backyard to run about- he was far more used to being a country dog. Harry wrapped his arm around me.

“So help me, you will get all the exercise and fresh air in the world, Stella. We will walk daily- you can have a garden in the springtime. We might even try hiking if the path isn’t too steep- all of us as a family! Oh! And the lakes! We must try rowing- you a little bit! You’ll feel like new as if you were never sick again!”

Though it hadn’t and would never leave my body, I could walk about more, even if I was slower or more fragile. I coughed blood even less. I had more appetite. Only on the rare occasions, I felt myself a little dizzy while walking or a brief pain in my chest, I would use a cane. But only rarely. And of course, that first spring, I planted seeds to become a garden.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ It was seven years after my diagnosis on a Sunday when we had a visitor. The housekeeper we had approached Harry and me as we sat on our chairs.

“Excuse me, there’s a Seaborne at the door!” She announced.

I froze where I sat. I reached for Harry’s hand who clutched mine in return. I felt the color drain from my face. I wondered how quickly I could get out the pistol from my purse.

“Is it a Mrs. Seaborne?” I asked.

“No! It’s a gentleman…a very young gentleman, a Mr. Seaborne.” She corrected.

Harry and I stared at each other dumbfounded.

“Let him in,” I said.

I stood up, clutching the shawl on my shoulders.

In walked that same pale face but matured. His body was still thin but far taller. I felt myself relax seeing him, saying that old cliché that has been used before and will be used again:

“My, how you’ve grown!”

Frankie, in a nice black suit and cravat, tipped off his hat.

“Mrs. Ransome, hello! I wrote to Martha and Fanny and heard you now lived here and you…you remarried, is that right?” he asked, though his eyes darted distractedly to look around the living room.

“Yes, Frankie, I am. I’m Stella Cavaradossi now. Here is my husband- Mr. Harold Cavaradossi.”

Harry walked forward and shook hands with the young man.

“Please stay- I think you’re in time for tea!” I suggested.

He sat down at the table in the kitchen with us. His eyes flitted about, but his voice was addressed to me as he poured milk into his tea.

“It’s odd not thinking of you as Mrs. Ransome…” he commented.

“It’s odd for me too…Frankie, what brings you here?” I asked.

“I just…I worried about you. For years. I…I thought…I even wondered if you were dead…” he confessed.

“Well, she is not. Clearly.” Harry cut in.

“I just was worried, I felt…I felt bad for you. I…I didn’t know how to feel about Mama and…I was angry at you for that letter, at first, but I’m not…not angry anymore. Mrs. Ran- Mrs.-Cava….Cava- ra….“

“You can call me Stella…” I advised.

“Are you happy, Stella?” Frankie asked me. His eyes, so much like hers, softened.

I smiled at the young man.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re in good health- I felt so bad for you back then. All stuck in that bed, coughing that blood. How’d you get better?” he asked.

“I was sent to a Sanatorium. They didn’t cure me, but they helped me, Frankie. And you? How have you been?”

He paused hesitantly and I froze.

“I…I live in a flat now with roommates. I go to University now and…and…I’m not on speaking terms with mama as much anymore…only on occasion,” he sighed. He sipped his tea meditatively.

“But Stella…I cannot be mad at you at all now. I remember the old days when I was in Aldwinter. Of all those adults there, you didn’t fuss at me for something I couldn’t help…you made bread. You welcomed me to the town. You let me play with your children. You made me dinner and sweets- I can still taste those chocolate biscuits! I always remembered, Stella. I never forgot your kindness.”

I felt a few tears on verge of showing, but I blinked back.

Despite his small oddities, he was wonderful company. Harry enjoyed him even. Before Frankie departed, I got some scraps of paper and wrote down an address and then a recipe.

“Frankie…you may write and visit any time you like. Come visit when James - he’d be thrilled! He’s with his brother seeing Joanna at her college today, else they’d be here!”

I then showed him the recipe.

“This is how you make those chocolate biscuits if you’d like,” I explained.

He put it in his pocket.

“Of course! And thank you for the tea as well!” he wished with a smile.

As he put his hat on, tipped it, and left, I crossed my arms. I was tearing up, but I was also smiling watching him go to his taxi. I was glad I didn’t kill that boy out of my rage. My anger did not sniff out the life of an innocent, only the guilty. And here Frankie was, like a flower in full bloom. I went out to the garden and began to cry again. But they were tears of immense relief.

From then on, Frankie was like another son to me. He regularly wrote and even visited when he could. I like to think he saw me as a second mother. Though he was wise enough to never speak of his own to me.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ There was one party we were throwing two weeks later. Harry’s favorite wine was flowing, and the guests were all laughing and socializing among themselves, including some of my own family members and of course my children. We finished our dinner and two friends who played violin and piano were warming up for dances.

But as it began and guests paired up on the wider floor of our room, I felt dizzy and a slight pain in my chest. I coughed, noticing only a little blood on my handkerchief. I then dashed upstairs. I sat down on the chair. I didn’t feel completely weak, but I was taken aback my heart racing. There was the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open.

“Stella, are you alright?” Harold asked, poking his head through.

My blood froze when he stepped in, and I took in his tuxedo from the party. It continued downstairs. And beyond, there was music.

Oh, dear God, this again! I saw this scene before, and I didn’t like how things ended up. Here again was my husband in a tuxedo, me feeling bad, and a party with dancing going on. My eyes started up, dreading seeing William’s beard, dreading reliving that moment in Aldwinter…

But there was no beard on my husband’s cleanly shaven chin this time. This wasn’t the past anymore.

“I am…I just coughed a little blood and got scared, but I feel alright…” I explained.

I heard the music and some clapping and chatter going on. Even my children’s laughter.

“Do you feel well, Stella? I’ll call the party off early if you like…” he offered.

“No, don’t! it’s just…it’s just…and you with your suit I…I just…” I muttered.

I sighed deeply and wiped away the tears with my handkerchief. I saw Harry’s shoulders soften.

“Harry…I don’t know if I will get better or get worse but for tonight…tonight you won’t leave me, will you?” I asked.

He stepped forward and touched my shoulder softly.

“Oh, of course not, Stella…” he vowed.

“Hold me, Harry,” I requested.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Anything, anything, I would change this- the past would not repeat itself again. Not with me.

“Is the dancing starting?” I asked.

“Yes, it is! The first one is ending- the waltz is next…” he recalled.

“Harry…I haven’t danced in a long, long time. I’d like to try and dance again…could you dance with me?”

He led me to stand.

“You only need to ask.” He responded.

As we headed to the hall, he draped his arm around mine. Then I looked at him and stopped my feet, I leaned closer to talk to him while we were still alone.

“I don't speak much of Will anymore, I try not to…I don’t want to bring him into this marriage, but I will be honest. This scene… reminded me of a memory I had with him. Do you remember me telling you about when I told him to dance with Cora?”

“Oh god, I remember now. I almost forgot…so you think that will happen again?” He puzzled.

I nodded. Harry cupped my cheek, keeping his other hand on mine.

“Stella, for each hour of your tears, I’ll replace it with an hour of happiness. I’ll take each moment of anguish and create ways to make you laugh. For each minute you felt unloved by him, I will make you feel worshipped. And if anyone, even you, tells me to dance with some other lady, I’ll refuse and dance with you instead.…”

We pressed our foreheads together, feeling the warmth and smoothness. I felt my tears had dried and I was smiling.

“Let’s dance, Harry,” I said.

We went into the main room, all cleared out. John already had one young lady as a partner on the floor. Joanna stopped her chatter among her new circle of friends to watch and James was watching as he sat, a plate of chocolate cake on his lap. Their eyes were on me, seeing if I was well enough. If I would fall or faint in dancing. Harry placed a hand around my waist, and I took his free hand in mine, our fingers intertwining. I kept a hand on his warm back. The violin and piano duo began playing. The waltz began.

We waltzed at a steady pace. I stepped into that square formation. He met mine with equality. His feet never once grazed my toes. I was keeping up without feeling breathless, weak, and with no pain or urge to cough. There was only dizziness as the crowd turned into a blur around us. I felt the warmth of his hand and Harry smiled the kindest, gentlest, most loving smile I had seen on a man, on a husband, on a person. And I returned it. I focused on his eyes as the music swelled as if giving us wings so we could fly up to the heavens and the clouds and stars themselves. Time itself stopped and there was only us as we moved together. The only feeling surging in my chest was that of joy.

Then finally, the song ended, and we paused. We clapped our hands in thanks. I glanced to see my children all looking at me with cheerful relief. When I looked back at Harry, he smiled and kept an arm around my back.

“You’re a wonderful dancer Stella, we should do this hourly,” he praised with a wink.

“Let’s drink some lemonade and then have another dance then!” I responded.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

As I write this, I have been married to Harold Cavaradossi for about ten years. Eleven years after I heard I was dying.

Harry was, is, and will be faithful to me. I know this with confidence. If there was something that needed novelty or something he lacked, something that he felt was wrong with me, he would tell me directly, his heart and eyes never wandering from mine.

I have seen the nineteenth century become the twentieth. I have lived to see Forty and past it, I may turn fifty if this keeps up. I have seen all three of my children grow up and become adults themselves.

Joanna has gone to a woman’s college, relieved it didn’t just teach women domestic arts but academic ones. She moved to London and has embraced the idea of the New Woman- she even has a suit complete with pants she enjoys wearing when she bikes. She works as a nurse for her income. She regularly writes to parliament insisting on a woman’s right to divorce her husband and does so all while she puts curls in her hair.

John is set to inherit the seniority of the Cavaradossi bank from his stepfather. He always hides sausages and treats in his pockets to spoil any dog he comes across. After schooling, he works alongside his father fervently at the bank. He is courting a young lady he is deeply in love with and intent on proposing. We are confident she will accept. To think I may live to see him married and perhaps as a grandmother!

James has grown so handsome that I often see young ladies eyeing him and he enjoys a good dance or flirtation. He enjoys reading books on theology and philosophy and shall debate them among his peers for hours, sometimes even going to church to discuss with the rectors themselves about their sermons. Though he is yet undecided as to what vocation he shall use for his life’s work, Harry tells him not to fret and to choose off on passion. He still has a weakness for chocolate and cannot resist sneaking bites of it during his classes.

I will indulge you with a glimpse into my private life in the marriage bed. It made the moment even more perfect; I think.

This morning, my husband, Harry, pleasured me in our bed. I felt the rise and bliss of that release as I repeated his name like a prayer. I went to heaven in that bed and floated down from it. We caught our breath. He removed his hand from my skirt, wiped it on the mattress, and held me close, our noses touching.

“Happy Anniversary, Stella.” He wished.

“Happy Anniversary, Harry,” I repeated softly.

I kissed the tip of his nose, his face bright red and scrunched with smiling. I reached a hand to play with his curls.

“How’s the loveliest lady in England today, hm? Not sick of me yet?” he asked.

“After ten years not yet…” I answered.

I placed both of my hands on his warm, solid chest as he stretched out, arms folded under his head. I then rested my chin on him as I looked up at his handsome face.

“Tell me the story about your adventures at sea…” I requested.

“I’ve already told that one hundreds of times!” he laughed.

“I don’t care, I like to hear it…let me hear it all, Harry, I’ll listen...especially the part about seeing the dolphins!”

He smoothed my hair as he told me about his time at sea. We hardly notice the hour pass by except for the sun slowly rising. I rose halfway in surprise, my stomach rumbling.

“I am hungry though…could we eat outside?” I requested.

Harry agreed. We dressed quickly and simply. I made sure my cane was right outside the front door, should the occasional bout of dizziness happen. Or a vision. Some say tuberculosis brings visions in a later stage but so far, they have been few and far between. I still have life in me yet and I’m determined to enjoy it. No matter how much time I have left.

We gathered our food in a picnic basket, held a blanket, and walked outside. I have a whole garden filled with flowers with as many blue ones as I could find seeds for. There is an apple tree in our front yard. Harry draped the blanket right under the tree, yet close enough that one could smell the flowers of both the garden and the apple blossoms of the tree.

Once we finished the meal, he at once grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to lay down on the blanket with him. He drowned me in kisses, and I giggled as if I was just an adolescent. I even felt one of his hands reach up to touch my thigh beneath my skirt.

“Harold! We’re outside! Our neighbors could see us!” I teased.

I saw his face, and just over the green leaves shuffling with the wind blowing through them. The sun alighting his blonde curls like a halo.

“Let them! Let them all see how much I love you, Stella…”

He kissed me with tongue and passion, tasting our meal again. We saw birds fly into the branches. They were singing their own songs and had twigs in their beaks. Soon there would be nests and eggs and chicks- new life. According to Fanny’s letters, Vincent said that the name of “Aldwinter” translated from German to English as “Old Winter”. Not here in Kersey where it was warm and so full of the promise of spring and life.

When I turned, right near the tree trunk among the grass, I found a little blue wildflower. I picked it up and bedecked it into one of Harry’s curls. He took my hand to kiss each of my knuckles and we melted into each other’s arms again beneath the shade and sunlight.

I know my time will come. And very, very likely, the consumption shall have that inevitable victory. But after such betrayal, such heartbreak, such tears, and rage …I was so at peace and happy that if I died at that moment, I thought, I wouldn’t have complained. I would finally be able to say I was content with my life.

I hope you too, no matter what may happen to you, no matter what betrayals you face or heartbreaks are forced upon you, no matter what struggles or hardships you have, you have strength. If I could, so could you. I pray that when you encounter someone like my first husband, when you find your Serpent, you stand up to him and tell him no. That you find someone like Harry or Fanny, or Mrs. Lee or Martha or the other Aldwinter ladies - someone to listen, to help, to love you and for you to love them. Or even perhaps fight for you- should the time arise- if you cannot fight for yourself.

May you go outside and if it is dark, try to find stars shining above you. Think of my name. Think of me. So, you will remember me and see that light in all the darkness and burning strong in a ball of fire, triumphant.

If it is light outside, go out and try to find a blue wildflower. Blue itself is a rare color in nature, so look very carefully. And once you find one, may you see it and be filled with that heaven-like tranquility and grace. If you like, you can try to press it. Or pluck it. Or leave it as it is and admire it before you continue your way. In a way, it’s like a piece of me watching over you, my dear reader.

For even amidst the deepest misery, as I have experienced, there are those who love us and who have yet to love us. There is life continuing without giving up. After we mourn, there is the eventual promise that one day, we will find the joy of being alive again.

I thank you so much for reading my words and hearing my story, whoever you are. Reader, I do not know your faith, but I will finish this with a prayer for your blessing. After all, you should know by now I am a woman of the Church of England.

Reader, may you be blessed. May you have hope and strength as a star or a blue wildflower. Because you have listened to me, may you be as listened to and come through your own challenges, as I have. Lord graciously hear us.

Reader, if you are one of my fellow betrayed spouses or lovers, I ask for heaven to bless you immensely. I am with you, holding your hand as you mourn and weep and rage. You are absolved, for you are the true innocents suffering from the sins of another. Lord, graciously hear us.

Even if you are not, Reader, may you reading this always ask for justice and find it, as I did. May you ask for love and find it again, as I did. May you always possess courage, as I learned to. Lord graciously hear us.

Your friend, Stella Harris Ransome Cavaradossi, wishes you the best as we depart for now.

I commend you, I commend you, I commend you all to mercy and protection.

Amen.

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smolvenger · 2 years ago

Text

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Series. Chapter 13- Birdsfoot Trefoil

A Fix-It Fanfiction Series based off of The Essex Serpent

Pairing: Some Stella Ransome/Will Ransome but focusing on the tragedy of their marriage and the angst from his cheating. Stella Ransome/Male OC: Harry Cavaradossi.

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. And Stella herself in the center of it all, torn between a wife's duty and her own quiet but present rage. Where in the midst of devastating heartbreak she gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: Stella and William Ransome are reunited. The unfaithful husband Will learns that every English Rose has its thorns.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve

If you like this, buy me a Ko-Fi

A03 Link

A/N: The Last Image is again from @crescentmoons-and-stardustust and their beautiful moldboard so go follow them. And here we go! Stella confronts Will about his cheating and drama goes down! If you like this, comments, reblogs, asks, and messages are appreciated!

Content Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (sorry not sorry), Description of Major Character Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Good For Her Cinematic Universe Submission, Me Supporting Women's Rights and Wrongs, Victorian Era Attitudes, Drinking, Illness, Religion, Descriptions of blood and gross stuff briefly, mentions of death and dying, Cheating and The Psychological Trauma of being The One Cheated On is portrayed and Discussed And the cheated on wife finally gets some justice, Will being an Asshole, Stella being sassier than she is in canon, (but that's character development baby), swearing, canon divergence, references to the show adaptation are thrown in, and police appear in at the very end. Being Anti-Will Ransome and Anti-C*ra so if you like those characters or the pairing you have been warned.

"I have been wronged. You listen to me, and tell me if my grief is excessive. He was everything to me, and is gone, my own husband, transformed into a serpent, slithering from my bed to another, leaving me abandoned, alone. The fate of a wife."- Medea by Euripides, Translation and Adaptation by Ben Power

“And the LORD discomfited Sisera, and all his chariots, and all his host, with the edge of the sword before Barak; so that Sisera lighted down off his chariot and fled away on his feet…Howbeit Sisera fled away on his feet to the tent of Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite…And Jael went out to meet Sisera, and said unto him, Turn in, my lord, turn in to me; fear not. And when he had turned in unto her into the tent, she covered him with a mantle. And he said unto her, Give me, I pray thee, a little water to drink; for I am thirsty. And she opened a bottle of milk, and gave him drink, and covered him. Again he said unto her, Stand in the door of the tent, and it shall be, when any man doth come and enquire of thee, and say, Is there any man here? that thou shalt say, no. Then Jael Heber's wife took a nail of the tent, and took an hammer in her hand, and went softly unto him, and smote the nail into his temples, and fastened it into the ground: for he was fast asleep and weary. So he died.” – Judges 4:15-21 KJV

“Stella?” he asked from behind.

“It’s me” I answered.

William opened the door.

His white shirt was open almost down to his toned stomach. I could see the hair on his chest. The chest I rested my head on for so many nights. I could see some of his toned stomach. All part of a body that once made love to me almost twice a day. And over it, a tan overcoat. His one blue eye looked at me, the right socket covered with a pirate-like eye patch. He looked stunningly handsome when he was disheveled. On the end of the right sleeve, I could see bandages, fresh and white, over the stub. Though his face looked tired and weathered. Even a little old. But still handsome as the day I met him.

I looked back at my siblings and Harry. They tipped their heads goodbye. Then my siblings got into the carriage, and it drove away.

“Come in, Stella…I’ll take your bags to your room,” he offered.

He reached down and picked up one bag with his left hand and then retreated inside. I followed him. He vanished into a room on the left, I just looked around the place.

The room was bitterly cold. It all looked very grey despite the sunshine coming in from outside. At the end of the entrance hall, was a parlor. I wandered down there. It had a window decorated with white curtains. In front, there was a small brown table and two chairs. On top of the table were stacks of books, pens, some stationery, an unopened bottle of sherry, two clean little glass cups for the sherry, two Bibles, reading glasses, and a little clock to tell the time.

I heard him go out, get my other bag, and then he closed the front door. But I turned to face him. He dropped the bag and ambled toward me. We looked at each other. He then went up to embrace me and I let myself melt into it. I teared up a little. I forgot how much I still loved him.

“Hello, Stella…” he said softly.

“Hello, William…” I spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes, you can.”

He kissed me tenderly on the lips. Then cupped my face. His thumb wiped off a tear of mine. I could see he was crying too. I saw the man who I fell in love with all those years ago. The man I still both loved and hated with all my heart.

“You never answered my letters,” he commented.

“There was too much to say…” I answered.

He kissed my forehead. He continued to hug me, pressing me to him. I looked at the table, resting the side of my head on him.

“I…I felt…just so sad and so angry when I read them… I couldn’t answer them,” I explained.

I then looked up at him.

“Do you know how much I love you? I was only angry and sad because of how much I love you. But I’m here now…” I whispered.

He smiled at me.

“You’re an angel from heaven, Stella,” he said.

“I’m also a woman, William.”

He let go and then took my hand his left one.

“Here, I’ll lead you to bed…” he offered.

He took my hand. And lead me to the little bedroom. I saw my bag and suitcase were already on the floor, near my usual right side of the bed. He led me to the right side and I sat down on it.

“You exerted yourself a lot by traveling today…try and get some rest…” he suggested.

“What’s near this house?” I asked, lowering my head onto the pillow.

I looked out the window to my right. There were thick white curtains hiding the outside. A cloud had covered the sun and the room looked like it was already evening even though it was ten in the morning.

“There’s a pharmacy, a grocer…anything we could need… we’re in the center of town…”

“I think tomorrow…I’d like to go to the grocers…” I requested.

He knelt beside me.

“Really? I think you need to stay in bed!” he replied.

“I find when I move around outside in the air, I feel better, Will…” I added on.

“If you say so, my dear.”

“If you give me some money…then I can buy us some things for dinner tomorrow when I go to the grocer…”

“There is food now. What I can make…” he answered, gesturing to his right stub.

“I can still cook. Let me cook, Will, I want this to be just like the old days…” I spoke.

“Yes, I promise you, it shall be….” He assured me.

I coughed some. He brought me a handkerchief to cling to.

“I’m going to the table to do some reading; I’ll be right back. Let me know if you need anything.” He said before exiting.

I noticed a desk in the room. It was kept very neat. No stacks of papers anywhere. I got up, took my bag, and hid it under the bed. I placed my suitcase in front of it and pushed it to a far corner. Where only my small hands and not his large ones could reach. William returned with tea and gruel. They tasted cold and bland.

“Are you called to serve at another church in London?” I asked.

“No. I’ve been visiting them and the officials in town. But that’s not why,” he explained.

“So why are you here?” I asked.

“For you, Stella…”

He sat by me. I didn’t touch my tea or gruel. I handed the plate and cup. He took each, one by one, to sit on the desk. I heard the clock ticking from the other room.

“Do you…do you want to talk about it…” he suggested quietly.

A lump gathered in my throat. The words were making my voice break.

“No. I’m not ready to talk about her yet…I just want to be with you for now…” I answered.

“Then, I’ll be with you. But in an hour, I need to head out. I…I am going to churches here. Making use of my time. Seeing the vicars and bishops there, talking to them. Might as well. I’m going there…will you be back when I’m gone?”

“I will be. I’m not going anywhere,” I promised.

He got dressed from his white shirt into his black pants, black shirt, and black jacket, and pulled the small white flap through his collar.

“Hopefully, with enough effort, I can rise to the rank of bishop…” he confided in me.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then left.

I knew better than to believe him. Even if he was visiting the other clergy in town, there was someone else he was seeing. And not for holy reasons. I went to the desk, I tried to open the drawers. They were locked. It wasn’t a wild guess of mine what was inside. I glanced at the bag under the bed.

Not now, not now my thoughts warned.

Wait. You will know. He wants a sweet, devoted, loyal wife who will think of him and not herself. And that’s the part you must play. Lure him in. Then, when he believes you are his submissive wife... when the moment is right...

He returned in the evening at about half-past five. I didn’t ask him where he went or what he did.

I only said, “Hello darling…”

I got up, in my nightgown and dressing robe. I greeted him at the door with a kiss.

“Here…have let me make you some tea or sherry…which would you prefer?”

“I think I would prefer sherry tonight…”

“I’d like some too…” I said.

We walked over to the table.

“You never used to drink…” he commented.

“I think it will calm me…and I’ve been feeling nervous lately…” I replied.

“It calms me too, that’s why it’s my favorite. So typical of a vicar!” he joked.

We went to the table. I poured two glasses and handed one to him. He raised one.

“Let’s toast…to happiness…” he said.

“To happiness…” I repeated.

We both took our first sips. He smiled at me, wearily.

“I missed you, my Stella, my star…” he spoke.

I swirled the liquid and observed the glass. It was the same from home. It was decorated with the sun rising the cup with a thin handle that spread at the bottom.

“If Stella means star, then what does the name William mean?” I asked.

“It means the will or desire…” he explained.

“You always had a strong will indeed. And you have the desire too, so it suits you…” I commented.

He immediately began to clutch my hand and kiss it, interrupting the rest of that thought.

“Only from how badly I desire you, my darling!”

I said nothing, finishing my sherry in three quiet sips.

“There are pork chops in the kitchen, I saw them…I’ll cook them up…” I offered.

“Stella, you need to rest…” he protested.

“I’m alright…let me move around, Will. It makes me feel better when I get to move a little…I’ll cook for you…”

I put the chops on the frying pan on the stove and turned it on. Once they were cooked, I served them with carrots, rolls with butter, and half a pear for each of us. There was another larger dinner table off to the side with two chairs. We started to eat. He stabbed at his food with a fork, lifting it to his mouth.

“May I ask…what…what happened to your hand?” I asked.

“Fanny,” he replied plainly.

“And your eye?” I asked, trying not to smile.

“Mrs. Taylor.”

The clock continued ticking. It was seven-thirty in the evening now.

“Do any of the church officials ask what happened?”

“Only the ones that know me.”

“And what do you tell them?” I asked, biting into my soft pear.

“Burglar.”

He paused, setting down the pork that was halfway to his mouth back onto his plate.

“Your friends love you…” he commented.

I wiped my mouth with the napkin on my lap.

“Do you love me?” I asked.

“Yes, I do…”

We went to bed. I changed into another nightgown, and he put on some of his night clothes. He kept saying he was cold at night. We slept. I woke up at six the next morning and he was gone from bed. He returned at ten o clock. He used to leave at eight to walk and return at nine.

“You still walk every morning?” I asked.

“Yes. Old habit.”

I didn’t ask why he took so long.

“I need to write…would you please leave me alone in the room for an hour, Stella?” he asked.

“Yes…I’ll get a book and my sewing…” I replied.

Again, I didn’t ask why. The reason was obvious.

I would read when all was quiet. The only book of Dante’s I chose to bring with me was a collection of mysteries and detective stories. Often, I’d re-read them once I finished one.

After he finished writing, I noticed that he hid the letters beneath his coat. He went out to mail them. Then he returned.

A doctor would visit. Or one of my siblings. My siblings would talk to me for half an hour. William only accompanied us silently. Discussing only polite subjects, not the ones we all wished to speak of. Harry never visited, but he sent us a bottle of wine for our home. There was a card explaining his absence for the week: his father’s heart was discovered to be in bad condition.

Every day was the same. William returned from his morning walks. He’d use the room to write letters and exile me to the parlor. I’d read. I’d have a guest or the doctor. Then he’d go out for his business, leaving me some money.

Every other day, William would leave money for whatever I wanted for dinner that night. Though he had a key, he kept the door unlocked for me. I’d change from my nightgown to my normal blue dress. After he would leave for his business and The Woman in the early afternoon, I would walk outside. I would bring a book or my sewing in my coat pocket. I would read or sew for about half an hour. I also liked to watch the London people around me sometimes.

I would go to the grocer’s store in the second block over. His name was Mr. Poole. He was a youth, just twenty years old. Scrawny with red hair, only thrilled to work for his father’s business and was willing to show off his long-acquired knowledge of food.

“I’m having a small fish for dinner for my husband, what else goes good with small fish? I also need some more sherry, please,” I would ask.

He would tell me in a chipper tone of voice, and I would buy it. He was pleasant company, I found.

Then I would go home. Wait for him. He’d return. Practically beaming from how his greyish blue eyes shone at me.

“Hello Stella, my dear,” he’d greet.

“Hello Will, my darling.” I’d say.

I’d kiss him. Then I poured us both a glass of sherry. Then I began to cook dinner. We’d eat. We’d have a glass of Harry’s wine with our meal. We’d talk about the children, especially during this.

“I must tell you…Joanna is the one who won’t write to me, much less talk to me anymore,” he told me on the third evening.

“Really…” I mumbled.

“Every day she grows bigger, and every day she looks more and more like you…”

He cried a little.

“You’re not even dead yet, and yet you already haunt me…”

Then we’d go to bed. On the fourth night, I nudged him in the dark until he awoke. “William… want you to make love to me, make love to your wife…at least one more time…” I pleaded.

Please love me. Just once. Change my mind. Now is your chance, Will. Please change my mind before I do this, I thought.

He shook his curly head.

“No…it’ll risk your health. You know you’re too weak to, now. And I might get it too…” he refused.

But he kissed and cuddled me instead until he fell asleep. I carefully slipped out of his arms and opened the curtains for the moonlight. He fell asleep on his back. Gingerly, I nudged the corners of the collar of his shirt to see his skin. There were hickeys and lip stains on his neck and chest.

At the fifth dinner, he discussed ideas about my funeral with me. I told him what I would approve of. If there was a suggestion I didn’t like, I didn’t tell him.

Then I said “Will…I don’t want to be married to you anymore…could you please divorce me?”

He looked at me and shook his head.

“Stella, your life is about to end very, very soon. It’s too late for that…”

The bed, though not the one from Aldwinter, still felt hard and cold to me. Every room in that house was cold. And his embraces were warm, but once he was asleep, I would soon be back to shivering.

It was a repetition of this. Day in and out. I felt like a clockwork figurine doing its dance per hour and then returning inside.

The seventh dinner was lamb with walnuts and asparagus. We finished the bottle of wine.

“I’ve missed you…I cannot wait until we return home, Stella…perhaps you can die back in your bed…” he sighed.

I took the last sip of my wine. He flashed a smile. His eye twinkled.

“Will…I have one more question…will you…will you end things with her?” I asked.

There were tears in my eyes. I wiped them off with my napkin and then put it back on my lap.

“You know I can’t, Stella. And you don’t need to make such a fuss about it like you did back home.”

He ate his lamb chop and wiped off the sauce from his beard. I didn’t have the appetite to finish my own plate.

On the eighth day, there was no doctor and no visitors. William went out again for his morning walk and said he would continue to his business. He wouldn’t be home until evening, he told me. When I looked outside, it was another cold, cloudy, grey day. After he left, I drank two cups of coffee, and then the pain returned to my chest. The room spun for a minute. I coughed out a lot of blood onto my handkerchief. As I was washing it off in the kitchen, a thought struck me like lightning.

Today could be the day you die, Stella. Each day, you’re getting weaker and weaker. You know it. This could be it.

The moment is here. It’s now or never.

I went to the bed and retrieved my bag from underneath it. I pulled out the jar. I poured all of it into our new bottle of sherry. Then I sealed the lid, placed it in my bag, and hid it under the bed.

He came home at five. A little earlier than normal. I was still in my white nightgown from dozing and being in bed for most of the day. He was in his black vicar suit.

“Hello Stella, ” he greeted with a large smile.

“Hello William,” I said with a practiced smile.

I gave him an embrace- him in black, me in my white nightgown. I pecked his pink, warm lips. I noticed the circles under his eye. From out of the pockets of his black pants, I saw the corner of a letter sticking out.

“Why don’t you sit down, you look tired…” I offered.

“I have had such trouble sleeping last night…and today was so busy…” he complained with a sigh.

I took his arm and walked him to the table.

“Here…you can relax now…”

He plopped down on his chair. The one that was mine was closer to the kitchen, to the right. His was on the left.

“Could you pour me some sherry, darling wife?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I got one of the glasses and poured him a drink, handing it to him. He sipped at it.

“Would you like me to start dinner?” I asked.

“No…”

“It’s chicken with rice tonight…” I told him.

He another sip at the sherry. It rested in his large hand, and he stared down at it. His smile dropped.

“I want to talk about her, Stella…” he confessed.

I sat down on my chair. My heart was beginning to race, and my hands were sweating a little.

“I do too,” I confirmed politely.

He downed the glass. I eyed the stub on the other end.

“Did you pleasure her with your right hand?” I asked.

His face shot up at me in surprise. He didn’t answer. I didn’t need him to. Then his eyes softened.

“You always were so good, Stella, I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“You’re right, you don’t.”

His lips were tightly pressed together.

“Why did you leave me?” he asked.

“You know why,” I answered.

Then he placed his left hand on his forehead.

“My head hurts…Stella, you must listen to me and have pity on me, on how hard this all has been for me…more sherry, please…” he complained.

I poured him another glass and returned to my chair. He began to nurse it.

“Hard for you?” I hissed, trying to contain the urge to yell.

I folded my hands on my lap and looked directly at him.

“Don’t you remember our marriage vows? You’re the one who leads weddings all the time- you should have them memorized at this point. You promised you would forsake all others, save me, in sickness and in health- in sickness and in health, Will! Every Sunday, you spoke of kindness, love, and putting another person’s needs above your own. You didn’t have to sleep with her. No one was forcing you to sleep with her. You could have put my own needs before your own- and you did not!”

My heart was racing, and I felt hot. His eye was shiny. His beautiful face seemed more lined, weathered, and tired, if not older. At almost forty-one, he was looking his age. I continued.

“You dared to break your own marriage vows- a sacred oath you made not just before the law, not just before everyone in town, but before God! If this is how you behave as a vicar, what kind of bishop will you be?”

His face turned red.

“I didn’t know this would happen…I didn’t know I would meet a woman like her…She’s… she’s different from any other woman!” he cried.

“What’s so wrong about other women?” I asked.

He took another sip of sherry. His grip tightened on the glass and his nostrils flared.

“You married me…not her…did you forget that? Did you ever consider how I would feel about it? What it would be like for me? That I would be hurt?”

“Darling, you said-“

I interrupted his next words, despite my breaking voice.

“I love you, Will…but I’m not your only love. And you promised me you would be.”

He finished his drink, setting it down.

“I remember when I visited you and your family before we were betrothed. You told me one of your favorite books was Pride and Prejudice. So, I read it for you. I wanted to be your Mr. Darcy…act like him, perhaps even look like him!”

My eyes began to blink away tears and my voice was shaking.

“Mr. Darcy wouldn’t sleep with Charlotte Lucas once Elizabeth was sick…”

He scoffed. I heard him exhale deeply. His voice was low and sonorous, the one that once I swooned over now made me want to spit.

“Then again…you fit Jane, far more than Elizabeth- Jane would forgive Mr. Bingley and return to him…I loved you for that. You are a Jane Bennet. You always were. Soft, sweet, selfless…”

I took in a breath and looked at the floor. I looked at the sherry bottle, then the clock, and then back at him.

“Is your lover more your kind of woman? I thought you married me because I’d fit being a clergy wife…but I guess you lied to me then. Was that who you wanted me to be this whole time?” I asked.

“I need more sherry, please…”

I poured him another.

“My heart’s racing right now…and I feel as if I could get sick and vomit from my grief…you torture me, Stella, my star…You’re forgetting several things too, Stella. You wanted me to be with her. You encouraged me to be with her. When you told me to go and dance with her, it was an act of romantic, loving, marital sacrifice…”

“Sacrifice, William?”

I met him in the eye. I no longer let my rage contain itself.

“I’ve sacrificed for you our entire marriage!”

I leaned closer to him, my hand gripping the desk and my other hand curled into a fist.

“I gave you my devotion, my time, my energy, my youth, my virginity, my prayers, my life, and my body countless times!”

I felt my voice raise.

“I bore you five children! Five! Did you forget? And did you forget when we lost Josephine and Julianna? That I carried and bore them as well! One died in my stomach and the other in my arms! There was always a baby in the house for years-I was pregnant five times in less than a decade! That’s about four years of my life with a living person inside of me! And as careful as we were, I still…still gave into your desires, the very acts that could get me pregnant again, because I wanted to please you! So, I bore five children in less than a decade, knowing I could die in the process!”

I took in a breath, wiped off the tears, and continued.

“I did everything for you and asked for nothing but your love and fidelity in return. I bore you five children, I helped your ministry, your church- made myself the very wife you needed me to be for God, for your church, for Aldwinter, and most of all for you! And you repay me by falling in love with another woman and acting on it?”

“Stella, I…”

“You could go to church early. You could go on your morning walks. You could search and hunt for the Serpent, alone or with her. I couldn’t join you- why? Because had to look after the three children? Me! I was the one! I was the one looking after them, dressing, feeding, watching, and bathing them while you run off to the forest to pleasure her against trees!”

He slammed a fist on the table.

“You told me to dance with her!” he argued.

The words blubbered out of me. My hands would not stop shaking and the tears would not stop from my eyes.

“Dancing is not…the same…as lovemaking, Will.”

He dropped his jaw. Then he downed the sherry in one gulp.

“Stella, listen…”

My voice lowered, but I would not stop speaking.

“No, you listen! I told you to dance with her, not to sleep with her! How hard can that be to understand?” I asked.

His jaw tightened. I glanced at the clock again, and then back at him.

“Stella, you have consumption! You were lying in bed, coughing out blood! And…it broke my heart to see you like this!” he continued.

“You think you’re the one with a broken heart!? You slept with her, just because you couldn’t sleep with me- your wife! You wouldn’t even make love to me the other night…and even now, after all this, you’re still seeing her…” I countered.

He sighed again. His eye drooped and closed. He raised the inner ends of his eyebrows.

“Stella…I…I love you…but the problem is I love her too…I love C-“

“Don’t you dare speak her name! I cannot stand that heartless bitch!” I interrupted.

“STELLA!” he shouted.

I flinched back further into my seat. But it felt freeing to finally curse. The aftertaste of it was sweet.

“You…I…I never heard you speak like this…I have never heard you curse…I never saw you angry, I never thought you were capable of hating anyone…” he wondered.

I took a quick glance at the clock on the table, then back at him. He placed a hand on his face and then lowered it back to the table. I saw it fall over one of his brown Bibles.

“I…I didn’t think, didn’t imagine, you’d find out about me and her," he reasoned.

He looked at it for a bit and then turned back to face me. I noticed his hair looked wilder. Probably the wind outside.

“But I did. Why…why didn’t you tell me, or confide in me, that you were struggling with lust for her? Then at least you’d be an honest man. I could have helped you- pray for you, even! I’d pray every day for your struggles with your temptations…” I responded.

“If I told you then, you would have died on the spot. You would have died of both consumption and a broken heart,” he explained.

“I found out still. And here I am. Still alive.” I retorted.

He reached out his hand. I did not take it, keeping my own on my lap.

“I ask for your pity…I was so tormented, so full of grief for you…”

A bit of light from the sun shone from the outside, the windows seemed to glow. The days were getting longer at last. At last, the eternal winter of The Serpent was going to end. Spring would be here so soon.

“And you forget one important thing," William began.

He reached over with his left hand and touched my arm in pity.

“You’re dying, Stella.”

“So are you, William.”

He blinked at me. I let myself smile.

“What do you mean I’m-“

He began to cough suddenly. Violently. He looked down at his hand- there was a lot of blood. As he got up to stand, his legs gave in, and he fell onto the floor.

“What am I dying of? Do you know? Tell me!” he pleaded.

He then looked at the bottle of sherry, and then at me. I folded my arms, looking down at him.

“Cyanide. Even a little is fatal. And you just drank three glasses.”

His fists were clenched and white. He coughed more. His black sleeve was stained with blood.

“Murder is a cardinal sin, Stella…” he said.

“Adultery is a cardinal sin, William…” I replied.

He began to vomit out blood and it fell onto the floor. It was getting to be a puddle. I lifted the skirt of my nightgown so it would not be stained and took a step back.

“Should I fetch a man on the street and stick my hand down his pants in front of you, so you know how it feels to be me now?” I asked quietly.

He looked up at me and I down at him.

“Not you… Not that sweet, delicate girl I met, not my Stella…of all…you…you to be the one to…to…to kill me...” he hissed.

I shushed him like a child. His eye was brimming with amazed and angry tears.

“Do not speak, before you die, I must tell you something…” I whispered.

Blood poured down his mouth, down his beard. He kept quiet. I took a step back to avoid the pooling blood. And I kept speaking, low enough so only he could hear.

“I’ve learned something else. All this time these past few months, everyone in Aldwinter was so frightened of the Serpent. That thing that ruined lives, the monster, the creature, the destroyer of Paradise, the Devil himself, the Leviathan in our ocean, the Aldwinter snake, the threat of Essex…yes, some found a boat and others a whale that left those tracks, but…I’ve realized something. There actually was a Serpent in Essex…”

I kept my distance but looked right into his eye and he into mine. The last thing he would see. The last words he would ever hear.

“You, William. The Serpent was always you.”

He collapsed his head onto the floor. His curly head shook with cough and vomiting, the blood beneath him continuing to spread. Then he stopped and was still.

He was dead. At long last, he was dead.

I went to my room, and from my hidden bag I pulled out the empty poison bottle. From one of my journals, I got out an excerpt of the draft of his letter to The Woman. I then returned to the room with his corpse and the table.

I placed them next to the empty jar of sherry on the table.

I went to our bedroom again. I changed from my nightgown into one of my blue dresses. I did my hair. I got the money he usually left in the kitchen for groceries and my embroidery of some bluebirds flying freely in the wind. I put them in the pockets of my blue coat, put on my blue hat, and blue scarf, and then tied on shoes.

“Will, I’m going out to sew outside and then to the grocer for dinner, I’ll see you soon, my love!” I called out, closing the door.

I walked out to the bench. For half an hour, I pulled out embroidery and continued working on it. Sewing more furiously than I ever had before. But it made my hands stop shaking. Then I went to the grocer.

“Hello Mr.Poole,” I said, feeling like an actress in a play.

“Hello, Mrs. Ransome!"

“I’m fixing chicken with rice tonight…what else will I need?” I asked.

He listed it out and I listened to him. We chatted about the dinner- the side dishes and even what fruit or dessert to consider. Then I asked him about his family and the history of the store. I coughed into my sleeve, but no blood. I took my time with him to discuss food and his family. I purchased it all and thanked him.

I gathered the bags and walked back with a practiced, happy smile. I thought of a hymn and began humming it. I reached the door and knocked.

“Will! Will, I’m home! Will, I have dinner! And your favorite- apples! My arms are full, could you let me in?” I asked out loud.

Nothing.

“Will… I need to sit for a while, I’m losing my breath-could you open the door, please, darling?”

Nothing.

With one hand, I turned the doorknob open, I turned my head around, looking for him.

“Will? Will! Will!” I called out.

I then looked down at the body. I dropped the groceries and let out a scream.

This time, I allowed myself the grief. I leaned down, embraced his body, and began to sob over it. Real, genuine, sobs. No pretending. No practiced lines or faces. Real sobbing over the man I adored beyond myself, the father of my children, the love of almost half of my life, and at once the great villain, the traitor of everything, my prisoner, the man who had become my idol who transformed into my tormenter. My husband, the Serpent.

I traced my hand over his features- his cheekbones, his lips, his beard, the curly reddish-blonde hair.

“Hello, Mr. Ransome! Mr. Ransome, I heard a scream! Is your wife alright? Mr. Ransome!” a voice cried out from outside.

There were fast footsteps towards the door that was left open. I turned my head around to see Harry with a bottle of wine with a bow in his hand. He saw the fallen groceries and then me, cradling William’s body.

“Oh shit! Oh God!” he screamed.

“Harry! Please! Get the police! Help! Help me at once- I think he’s dead! William’s dead!” I pleaded with snotty tears.

The police and a detective arrived, Harry right behind them.

“What is your name? And who is the deceased?” the first policeman asked me.

“M-My name is Stella Ransome…and my husband…his name…his name is…was…William. William Ransome, and he was a vicar and we lived in Aldwinter…”

The police were flying by me like bees. One leaned down with a sheet. I leaned down, and through tears, I gave my husband a last kiss on the forehead.

“Goodbye, Will,” I whispered, closing his eye.

May you be in hell now, I thought.

He placed the sheet over William’s body, and I stood up, backing away. The policemen after searching the rooms reached beneath the white sheet and searched through his blood-stained clothes and pulled out the letter. They opened it and read it.

“We are so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Ransome,” the detective said, lowering his cap.

I had to be very careful. And choose my words. This evening would determine my fate and a wrong step would land me in a prison cell.

The detective went over to examine the two bottles and the cups, as well as the sheet of paper. My heart was roaring in my ears. My whole body felt tense. The first policeman took off his cap too and expressed his sympathy, but then adjusted it back on. The detective searched around the room for a quarter of an hour, and then returned to me.

“Let her sit down…we have more unpleasant news for her. But she needs to hear it.”

Harry led me to what was once William’s chair- and I sat down.

“Mrs. Ransome…it seems like there was…was cyanide in his sherry. He poured a whole bottle of it inside and then drank it,” the detective reported.

“And not a drop to spare for me?” I asked.

“No…but…do you have children, Mrs. Ransome?” asked the detective.

“Yes…we have three beautiful children back in Aldwinter…” I answered.

The detective offered his hand, and I accepted it, then he squeezed it, his eyes were kind.

“Then you need to be alive for them…they need you now more than ever. Did you know there was poison in the house?”

I burst into tears and said, “No, I didn’t!"

“Did you see this paper on the table?” he asked, pulling up the scrap.

I wiped my tears aside and shook my head.

“N-N-no…I just ran to his body… I loved him so much!” I answered.

“It reads this-, just so you know…it’s a suicide note, for sure, but even the content inside could be shocking. Prepare yourself, Mrs. Ransome…”

The detective cleared his throat and read out loud:

“I feel so torn and tormented. I feel so torn between my saintly, dying wife and the love of my life. I feel as though I would rather die than be torn between two women I love so much!”

I put a hand over my mouth. He handed it in front of me to read. I stared at the paper with two hands.

“What were you doing an hour ago?” the first policeman asked.

“I was outside, sewing like I usually do. And I was getting his dinner at the grocer's. The kind he likes.”

“Did you know he had a mistress, Mrs. Ransome? We found a letter from another woman in his other pocket…” He explained.

“…Yes, yes I did…but…I thought…”

I sighed. The detective gave me a handkerchief. It was shaking in my hands. I kept crying into it.

“If I just made this house a perfect home…he’d say he was sorry and promise to love me like he always did…that he would leave her for good and be with me…it was perfect, we were even going to go back later this week…”

“And what were you doing in London?” The detective asked gently

“I was here to see certain doctors for my consumption. My husband joined sometime later,” I answered plainly. It was the truth after all.

“Mrs. Ransome, what were you doing an hour ago?” the policeman asked sternly.

“I was out walking and getting air for my health I sat on a bench to sew like I usually do. Then I went to the Poole’s grocery stop. I got us food for our dinner tonight, then I returned home and found his body bleeding…” I reported.

The detective observed the scene and clicked his tongue. The letter and the paper were in his hands. Then he sat in the other chair and looked at me.

“He drank poisoned sherry while you were gone. The guilt of having a mistress out of you- and you are such a sweet, innocent woman! And in bad health too! That… must have been why. So, he got out the poison he hid from you, put it in his sherry, and drank it… The body is still freshly dead. This is a textbook suicide case if I ever saw one,” he said.

I put my head in my hands and cried. Harry pulled a chair to sit by my side.

The detective observed the scene and clicked his tongue. The letter and the paper were in his hands. Then he sat in the other chair and looked at me.

I put my head in my hands and cried. Harry pulled a chair to sit by my side.

“Tragedies are just a part of life, Mrs. Ransome, makes sense for a woman to cry at this, though,” The policeman said coldly.

“Here, I’ll make you tea if you’re alright by that.” The detective offered.

“I would.”

I heard him talking to one of the officers in the kitchen as the kettle whistled.

“Poor lady, poor Widow Ransome…”

Widow…the word felt new. There was one way I and the Woman were now equal. London had freed us of our husbands. Each man was cruel in his own way.

He returned with tea, and I drank it. The saucer kept shaking in my hand and Harry had to hold it for me. He kept quiet the entire time. The first policeman went up to me.

“We’ll send a telegram. The children must know their father is dead. Would you like to stay with any of the family you have in town, Widow Ransome? Would you rather stay over there than here?”

“Yes, please."

“I could escort you there,” Harry offered.

The policeman let out a little laugh.

“Mr. Cavaradossi! Surprisingly noble of you! Tell me- which revel did you just return from?”

“A rather boring one, compared to this, I must confess…I know the home address of one of her brothers, Mr. Dante Harris. He's a friend of mine. Let me escort her there…” he offered.

The detective stepped forward.

“Widow Ransome… I’ll escort you too. I’ll pay for a taxi for us, too,” he offered.

“Yes, I’d like that. Let me get my bag and a few things for the night. Mr. Cavaradossi…could you help? Tomorrow, could you bring my other things to be returned to me tomorrow?”

Now, finally, they were truly my things.

“Yes, of course,” Harry agreed.

I filled the bag with clothes for the next day, the book of detective stories, and one of my flower journals. As they walked me out, I heard voices with clicking tongues of the policemen inside.

“A vicar sinning first by adultery…and then another sin by killing himself! He must be damned by now from all that…isn’t that what the Bible says about suicide?” I heard the first policeman.

“When love and lust are involved, Bible verses get forgotten, Mr. Stevens…but you heard what she said when we told her it was poison. She is a true wife-wanting to follow her husband to death! No wonder he felt so guilty…” another replied.

Harry and a policeman walked me into a taxi. The three of us sat in silence the whole ride. The taxi stopped in front of Dante’s home.

“Be careful with the lady, she’s had a nightmare of a day, Mr. Cavaradossi. She lost a husband she loved; you know…” the detective warned.

Harry nodded. He handed me my bag.

“I’ll see her inside. Could you go to Dante’s workplace and let him know his sister is there and why? I’ll come back and give you an address and join you,” he suggested.

The detective nodded.

Harry helped me upstairs to the guest room that was now to finally be mine. Then he fetched a glass of cold water and gave it to me.

“Do you need anything before I go?” he asked.

“I need coals for the fireplace. I feel cold…” I answered.

He left and returned with some coals and fireplace tools. He put the coals into the opening. I poked at it with a poker until the flames were born.

“Anything else? I’m afraid my wine bottle is still over there, else I’d give you some. Thank heavens I didn't drop it! I can go retrieve the wine if you like after we tell your brother. You can help yourself after!” he offered.

“I’d like that. I also… need to be alone to process this…to process that my husband…k-k-k-killed himself…” I stuttered.

“Of course, I will see you later, Stella,” he said.

He closed the door. I heard him go down the stairs and shut the front door. Once alone, I finished the glass of water, sitting by the fireplace to warm myself from the cold drink. I set the glass aside, kneeled on the floor, pressed my hands together, and now alone, out loud, I began to pray.

“Dear God, I confess, I am a murderer.”

I then prayed the confession that I recited every Sunday all my life. I spoke quietly, but with every bit of emotion going through me right now. I had to cleanse myself before God if I were to die soon, as William said.

“Most merciful God, I confess that I have sinned against you in thought, word, and now deed…I am truly sorry and I humbly repent. For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and forgive me; that I may delight in your will, and walk in your way, to the glory of your name, Amen.”

I reached into the bag with the flower journals. I opened it and took out the letter and the note- one that went with the cyanide encouraging me to kill myself for my husband. To die so he could be with his lover. To die for his happiness.

I reread it. And laughed heartily at it.

I tossed the small note that went with the poison into the fireplace. Then the long pages, one by one. I watched as each of them was destroyed. The bottom of the flames was blue. I smiled.

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